I Never Dreamed You'd Leave In Summer by Robert Lashley

Author:Robert Lashley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Demersal Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

…

Professor Thompson,

Yeah. I quit Everett’s fucking class. And this was before the interracial shaming list those students shared with Reed College online. It’s one thing to listen to these motherfuckers whine about White people every day. Now I got to get on a collective Prep School shit list because I don’t want to slap Judith with my dick. I’ve been around the book club and the “discourse” at the beauty shop far too goddamn long to pretend that this “let’s feel sorry for activists who want to take pussy” class isn’t a waste of my motherfucking time.

I can’t say this enough, professor. I’m the last nigga on earth to say they don’t have a right to be angry. I have a bunch of motherfucking stories about the man and the Tacoma PD feeling my nuts when I was nine years old. And if one gave a good goddamn look at the thirty open minutes of the day when they just rant because Dr. Everett wants to find points to riff off racism and his Jewish ex-wife, there are ten where they have some credible points. I’m not immune to the shit of the world for us. I’ve lost count who every Black person who’s been shot by police and neighborhood watch for some bullshit. And I have lost count of the number of White people I’ve seen who put them on trial for their own murder.

But those other twenty minutes are kicking my ass, professor. If the shop and hanging out with Judith taught me anything, it’s that you got to have antennas to take in the good shit in life. Sometimes it’s an impromptu after-work dance party. And sometimes it’s a Joni Mitchell song that you listen to for the first time and want to know everything about. And sometimes it’s a poem by Emily Dickinson that got a lot of dope images that you can just lose yourself in. And if you say that in class, almost all of the time, twenty out of thirty people gonna call you an unwoke Uncle Tom. And eight are scared to say anything. And the remaining two people are Judith and me.

It doesn’t stop there, professor! Have you heard of #cancelmayaangelou? ‘Cause I have. Or how about #cancelgladysknight? Or #cancelchakakhan? Or even #cancelsteviewonder? And do you know every White poet who has made a mistake on race? (Or what negroes and holier-than-thou White folks who can afford Nisqually think is a mistake on race?) ‘Cause I do, and it’s all because of this class. For all this shit he talked about trying to change the syllabus and focus on his anger in our sessions, all he did was dump the stress, tensions, and obsessions that made me hate that house on all the students and made them want to talk to people about their lord and savior, #blacktwitter.

And of course, the college Republicans ain’t shit. Judith and I went to a meeting, and it was just a bunch of punk-ass proud boys and blue-blood neurotics who can’t speak five sentences without trying to “own a lib.

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